Human Heart
by ILoveAnnaO'Byrne
Summary: His heart ripped out to show her he loved her. But yet she had left him, destroyed emotionally and distraught. With Christine gone, our Phantom will stop at nothing to find her again. The purity of her voice still doesn't hesitate to awaken all of his tortured emotions. Utterly mad with wanting her again, he devises any and all means necessary to lure her back into his world.


_**Human Heart**_

His heart ripped out to show her he loved her. But yet she had left him, destroyed emotionally and distraught. With Christine gone, our Phantom will stop at nothing to find her again. The purity of her voice still doesn't hesitate to awaken all of his tortured emotions. Utterly mad with wanting her again, he devises any and all means necessary to lure her back into his world. A world filled with despair, anguish and madness. But most of all—undying love.

_**Chapter 1:**_

I lay curled up on the stone floor of the corridors. My head was pounding and I was trembling with cold. My chest was tight and my heart ached for Christine terribly. It had been about three hours since she had left, and I could not move. My whole body was sore and my eyes felt heavy. I was too exhausted to even think about getting up and running from the mob. Even if I could, what was the point anymore? My love, my muse and my angel was gone and I knew she would never return to me. Our love lasted merely a moment, with that warm, passionate kiss we shared. But I should have known that was too good to be true. When I actually gave her the choice she ran off with her Vicomte and left her angel to burn in the deepest pits in Hell.

My eyes drifted shut, and for that moment I could picture everything in a perfect world. My little utopian world. I pictured waking up in a warm bed; Christine curled up in my arms, pressed close in desperate need of warmth. I pictured her beautiful curls sprawled out against the pillow, her legs entwined with mine, and her fingers laced between the spaces of mine. I pictured her eyes shut, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. She seemed so elegant, so beautiful that I knew it was just a dream.

I must have dozed off, for I felt something sharp in my chest again as I slowly opened my eyes. I thought it was something sharp that the mob was driving through me, but what I saw surprised me. It was Giry and her daughter. Antoinette sighed and stroked my cheek.

"Erik," she spoke gently. "You must get up, darling."

I groaned and turned away, and, frightened by my face, Little Meg Giry trembled and hid behind her mother. Of course I snuck a little peek at her slapping her daughter's arm in her attempt to scold her. "I don't want to. I want to lay here and die."

"Erik Destler." She warned sternly. "I may not be your mother, but I am certainly older than you and you must respect and obey me. Get up."

Hesitantly I sat up and looked at Giry. She seemed a little apprehensive of what she was going to do next, but kindly she extended her hand and pulled me to my feet. She forced Meg to give me back my mask, and I didn't hesitate to put it back on my head. I shuddered and rubbed my arms as I tried to keep warm. But despite how accustomed I was to the cold of the corridors, I was freezing.

"You're going to hide here until tomorrow night," Giry finally announced, breaking the short silence. "I have a little bit of food in my bag for you, and I'm going to bring you to that special room built in the walls of the corridors. Meg and I are going to tell everyone you're dead, and when everything calms down we will come back down with more food for you and then sneak you out towards my apartment. We'll talk about what happens next when we get there."

I nodded, although my mind somewhere else. I thought about Christine and the way she treated me. I was so different, so distant from her for as long as I'd known her and yet I never noticed. I forced the frightened girl to sing for me, to love me unconditionally. But of course her innocent forced her to be afraid of me, to not see what Antoinette and even Meg Giry had seen in me. And I had been so blind as to have noticed she didn't love me. She cared, yes, but up to a certain point. Such an immature child Christine was.

After a little while of walking the twists and turns of the corridors, Giry and her daughter had brought me towards a little section in the wall. She pushed on a stone and a little stone door slid open. "You will stay here, Erik."

I bit my lip nervously and nodded again. In the room there was a small piano and a little bed, lots of blankets and spare clothes. I grabbed the bag Antoinette had handed me and vaguely, and half-heartedly, smiled towards her. She had always thought of me as her son, and I had thought of her as my mother. Because she knows I never had a real mother.

With a reassuring nod, she turned, fixed her skirt and left the room. Meg stayed for a moment and stared at me in pity. I turned my face away and waited for her to leave. When Antoinette pulled her away and left me alone, I shut the door and lay down on the bed. My body curled up into a fatal position, my knees pressed to my chest and my mask pressed against the pillow. I wanted to compose, and yet at the same time I didn't. My muse was not here, so what was the use?

My Christine… My Christine… Lost and gone… Lost and gone…

**-:-:-:-:-:-**

Silently, I rested my head on Raoul's shoulder as he hummed something from our childhood. His hand was stroking my curls, and I whimpered fearfully against his neck. I sat on his lap, my night dress wrinkled. It was about 2 in the morning, and I woke up with a scream. As he always did in the past, Raoul swooped in and started to comfort me. He pressed kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and occasionally my lips. He stroked my hair and cheeks and hugged me close. He did his best to reassure me. I knew that was his best, but I felt it wasn't enough. I calmed down enough to be able to speak again, but his voice. It was still there. It was haunting me, replaying over and over as if stuck and embedded there.

Raoul seemed to realize who was on my mind, and started to sing a familiar Swedish lullaby from when we were small children. I suppose he had his hopes that it would distract me. "_Jag vet en dejlig rosa, och vit som liljeblad. När jag på henne __tänker__, __så__görs__ mitt __hjärta__ glad. Dess stämma ger en hjärtans tröst._ _likt näktergalens blida röst._"

But, yet, I could not think of anything but him. His voice. His face. His everything. But silently I began to wonder if the choice I made was right. Raoul was sweet, yes, but he was someone from the past. I wonder now if he should have stayed there. The Phantom loved me with everything he had. He killed for me. He burned down the opera house for me. He saw potential and hope in me when nobody else did. He was so different, yet that difference made me feel drawn to him. His mysteriousness allured me towards him. He stole my thoughts, my mind. He controls me.


End file.
